


Cult of the Ceaseless Watcher

by Tea_is_Not_Them



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A lil creepy, Archivist Sasha James, Based of a TikTok, Cult of The Ceaseless, Cults, Hinted :), Messiah Jonathan Sims, Minor Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25171465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tea_is_Not_Them/pseuds/Tea_is_Not_Them
Summary: Martin Blackwood is only looking for a followup for Sasha. He stumbles across something stranger than even their usual day job.
Comments: 19
Kudos: 76





	Cult of the Ceaseless Watcher

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a TikTok, I hope you enjoy it dude 
> 
> Social Medias:
> 
> kai_is_mothman (instagram)
> 
> eldritch-core-baby (Tumblr)

The Beholding, against popular belief of the avatars, had more than Jonah Magnus as an avatar. He was not a singular force of the Watcher, as much as he wanted to believe so. There were others, and they did not fall into the Magnus Institute. Instead they banded together to become The Ceaseless.

The Ceaseless was their own brand of organization, not much thinking of anything but feeding their patron god and setting up a ritual. They were a disorganized bunch, mostly academics none going in for the normal Academia in their pursuits. A group that only really got together for check ups, which could be done by the watcher’s gaze.

There was a boy that piqued their attention. After hearing of the Desolations attempt, they wondered if they could make their own attempt at a messiah, or antichrist if you asked the wrong people, and succeed in the way that the Desolation could not. The Ceaseless were very adamant that they could do better.

It was a process, to choose a child who could embody their patron, but they soon found Jonathan Sims, a boy whose parents had died when he was very young. His grandmother was not an issue to The Ceaseless, just a question here, a knowing there. Soon she would hand over the small boy to them.

Jonathan was the perfect fit for their patron. He watched, he questioned, his thirst to know only grew as he was indulged in knowledge. 

\-------

Martin Blackwood had no clue why he was here in this church. One day he goes to research a statement for Sasha and then he finds that the followup is in a creepy church. It looked to be abandoned so he let himself in, the large heavy doors making a loud noise as he opened them. It was not abandoned.

He found himself being watched by people in pews, there seemed to be so many of them, all wearing masks covered in eyes, large and small and all sorts of colors. They turned to see the intruder and he was about to run before someone grabbed his arm. The person was strong enough that Martin had no chance to break away and escape. Martin froze as he was dragged to the front, the gaze of everyone in the room following him. The man, who was wearing a similar mask to others, had moved him to the front pew, where no one else sat.

Martin decided his best bet to live was to stay silent and watch. It seemed to be what everyone else was doing. 

The church was beautiful, a true poet's dream he supposed. There were eyes carved into the walls and painted on the pews. There were bright lights everywhere, the sky letting in from the glass ceiling, but the stage had candles upon an altar and along the top stair. The candles seemed to hold no purpose. The altar itself had a single eye painted on the front, and as he watched the eye, it watched back and blinked. Martin could have screamed at the strange movement of a wooden eye, if he were not petrified of the consequences.

There was a man with a mask on reading something to the people, but behind it all was a man sitting in the back of the stage reading. 

He was a beautiful man, Martin would give him that, he could already hear Tim and Sasha getting on his case if he lived long enough to tell them anything he saw here.

He did not wear a mask, his eyes laser focused on reading the large novel in front of him, his hair was long and dark with gleaming streaks of silver. The robes were different from the other cultists, --that's what they were Martin exclaimed in his mind.

There were again, more eyes lining the hem on the bottom. His robes were black compared to the grey of the other mask wearing cultists. There was an eye on his forehead, it stayed open and watched. He wore rings, and the hood of the robe had eyes on the inside, peeking out behind frizzy hair.

As Martin looked away he noticed the other cultists had gone quiet, and they were leaving, raising from their seats and taking off their masks as they exited the building. He wondered if the courtesy applied to him, but the man at the altar took off his mask and glared at him so hard that Martin thought he might have taken psychic damage, if this was pokemon. As the man at the altar left, Martin was alone.

Alone with the reading man. 

The reading man’s eyes moved and found Martin sitting alone. 

He stood, closing the book and setting it down where he had been sitting. The candles had gone out, many cleared to make a path. Martin felt pinned like a bug under the watching eyes of the man, it was like everything that could see in the temple was gazing upon him.

He stopped in front of Martin.

“Hello Martin Blackwood.”

Suddenly Martin knew the man’s name, Jonathan Sims.

“Uh. Hi.”

Jonathan suddenly looked slightly amused, the emotion conveyed through his eyes and nothing more, and Martin felt embarrassed. It was not his fault that he was awkward meeting a cult! Jonathan was shorter than him.

“Ask. Ask anything.” Martin took a breath, if he made it out of here alive Sasha would have a heart attack when he told her.

“What is this place?” Was what he settled on for now, while he could get follow up it might be rude to just ask everything off the bat, and being polite was his default.

Jon hummed, “Church of the Beholding. You are from The Magnus Institute right?”

“Yes actually.”

The shorter man looked at him, “You’ve already told your story. I am glad that Jane Prentiss didn’t cause any life ending damage.”

For some reason the feeling of eyes was peaceful now, calm and almost inviting. A switch had been flipped.

“You are welcome here Martin,” The feeling of eyes and the softness of a voice from a man he had never met made him shiver, “Find comfort in being known.”

He nodded, feeling something safe. Martin felt calm, as if he was perfectly safe in this foreign place, being watched by the unknown. When Jon looked away he felt normal again, and almost found himself missing the feeling of complete comfort for who he is. 

Jon looked back to him and nodded, “Be safe Martin. If you need a place, I’ll welcome you.”

Martin found himself nodding, “uh. Thank you. You be safe too.” The words tumbled from his mouth and Jon turned back to him from where he almost strode off.

There was a smile, only a small one, but it was there. For a second Jonathan reached out, then curled his fingers back. It brushed Martin’s hand. The back of his palm itched. Jon was ethereal, something inhumane and strange. 

“Of course.” And he was gone. The door he left through closed with a resounding noise, leaving Martin alone in the empty and silent room. 

Martin went to go back to the Institute. He needed to talk to Sasha. For some reason he was a little disappointed to lose the feeling of being watched, but he shook it off and made his way back to the institute.


End file.
